Wish Upon A Star
by CookiesN'Cream124
Summary: Post 2x08 with a tag to 1x05. Bellarke. "Do you remember when we were standing around the campfire watching the bodies hit the atmosphere? I asked you if we could even wish on that kind of shooting star." "Actually, yeah. I told you I wouldn't even know what to wish for. Most days I still don't."... "Today I do."


**Hi guys! It has been a looong time since I wrote fanfiction. Over a year and a half. Wowzas. But this plot bunny took over my mind at about 1:30 this morning, and didn't let go till it was all typed out. So, forgive my rustiness and crappy summary, and I hope you enjoy!**

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><p>He goes after her later that night.<p>

She didn't come back to Camp Jaha. After...

...you know.

_It._ Nobody really knows what to call it.

He knows what it was, he knows why she did it. But still...

_It._

She never even started on the path towards camp, after the fact. The camp watched on as she and Lexa exchanged a few words, but she walked straight into the woods, never even looking back.

He could still see the knife clutched in her hand.

After Abby took Raven off of his hands, after the camp had settled down and the majority had turned in for the night, he took a pack and filled it with water and rations and a jacket, and told Abby he'd be back the next day.

She didn't question him, only looked at him, the tense set of her jaw and wrinkle between her eyes conveying all her worry for her daughter, and nodded once.

With that, he stepped past the perimeter fence, and headed for the dense forest.

He knew where he was going.

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><p>It took him under an hour to make it from Camp Jaha to the drop ship.<p>

One of the two, built up by the council and the resources they'd brought down from the Ark. The other, built by he and Clarke and the rest of the 100, with their bare hands. With sheer determination. With their wills to survive. The drop ship stood for something. Camp Jaha stood for nothing.

He'd never realized, until then, how the camp and the drop ship were really two different worlds. He'd never noticed how far apart they were, despite being so close.

Hindsight. Crazy stuff.

He finds her where he knew she'd be. She's sitting on the ramp to the ship, focusing her eyes on some star or constellation in the galaxy they were once a part of.

He approaches directly in her line of vision.

She doesn't move. Not even a twitch.

He pulls the jacket out of the pack, sets the bag off to the side, and quietly sits down next to her.

He tucks the jacket carefully around her shoulders.

Still, she doesn't move.

He's especially careful to sit close enough to her that she can feel the warmth of his presence, that if she reaches out he'll be right there, but also far enough away that they aren't touching, that she still has her space.

He can't help but look up at the sky, searching for that focal point that has her so entranced.

They sit like this for a while. Time has taken on a whole new meaning down here, in the wild and craziness of Earth as compared to the structure and intensity of the Ark. It could feel like minutes and really be hours, and vice versa. He doesn't know how long it's been, but he's here, and he'll stay here as long as she needs.

She's the one who ultimately breaks the silence.

"It's seems like it was a lifetime ago." Clarke says quietly. Her voice is low, and raspy, like it hasn't been used in a long time.

Maybe it's from her tears.

He looks at her then, and sees the vulnerability, the sadness in her eyes, the pain in her features. He wishes he could take it all away, put it all on himself so she, his princess, would never have to suffer again, but he can't and it is killing him to see her like this.

As he waits for her to continue, he can't help but notice the knife is still firmly grasped in her blood-stained hand, almost like a lifeline... the only thing still keeping her together.

"When it was just us down here, trying to figure things out," She finishes. Her voice is saturated with wistful remembrance. "I mean Jesus, we were teenagers. We were supposed to be figuring out who we were, not how to survive in a place we'd only ever read about."

He hadn't stopped looking at her, and as she continued to talk, he saw a little bit of her come back to life. Her stubborn, argumentative streak, no doubt.

"But what's really insane, is we discovered who we were _because_ we had to learn how to survive here. For days, maybe even weeks, all I wanted was to have the Ark's help. I wanted to be in contact with my mom, with Jaha, with anyone who could tell me how the hell we were supposed to do this. But eventually I had to give up on that hope. We all did. We had to assume it was all on us. You became a leader, I became a healer, we all worked together and we made it work. It was scary as hell, but we were making it work." She ends on a near whisper.

He stays silent as Clarke voices all these personal feelings she so rarely reveals, watching a little bit of her strong, warrior-like facade slip away piece by piece. This is her way of releasing all the bottled up feelings and emotions from the last few months. He knows she needs this.

"Do you remember when we were standing around the campfire watching the bodies hit the atmosphere? I asked you if we could even wish on that kind of shooting star."

She finally looks down from the sky. Her eyes now wander across the uneven terrain.

Now he knows what she was searching for in the midst of all those stars.

Something to wish on.

Hope.

"Actually, yeah." Bellamy's deep voice pierces the stillness of the night. "I told you I wouldn't even know what to wish for. Most days I still don't." He turns his knees in towards her, reaches out, and placing his hand on her cheek, turns her head to face him.

"Today I do." She meets his eyes with her own, a silent question burning deep in the orbs.

"I'd wish for better. For you, for everyone. I'd wish for a world that was fair and just, and everything that the Ark wasn't. I'd wish for a place that was safe. For us, for our descendants, and everyone else to come. But more than anything, Princess, I'd wish for you to have never had to make the decision you had to make tonight, and I'd wish for all your pain to be taken away. I'd wish that I could somehow take your place."

His thumb brushes gently over her cheek, wiping away the lone tear that fell. With his free hand, he grasps the knife from her now limp hand, and tosses it away. Clarke brings her non-bloodied hand to meet the one on her cheek, pressing it closer.

Like she never wanted to let go.

With a crack of her voice and slump of her shoulders, she makes a wish too.

"I'd wish that I could go back and change everything. I'd wish that we could start over, from the very beginning. I'd wish that none of this had ever happened."

He can't help but think that there are at least a few things that happened in the midst of all this hell that he wouldn't change for anything.

Like this moment.

When she jumped into his arms.

The piercing stares of her bright blue eyes that make him feel like she sees him.

The real him. Every part of it.

No one else knows him like she does.

Who's to say they'd get this (_them?_) right a second time?

"I don't know how to get over this, Bell." She looks up at him, he brushes the hair out of her face. She shuts her eyes to the tears welling underneath, "I don't know how I'm ever going to close my eyes and not see his face. I killed him. His death is on me."

"But it isn't. He did what he did on his own accord. If we ever wanted any semblance of peace with the grounders, any hope of getting our people out of Mount Weather, justice had to be served. What you did was the bravest thing I've ever seen, that any of us have ever seen. It's tragic, and it's heartbreaking, but you did something that no one else would have had the strength to do, and I am so proud of you for that. You _saved him_, Clarke. From a long, painful death that he didn't deserve. I know it may seem impossible right now, but I promise you, you will get through this. Together, we will get past this, and we _will_ start over. Not from the very beginning, but from this new one."

He'd moved so he was kneeling in front of her, two strong hands framing her face.

"We're gonna need ya, Princess."

Despite her best efforts, a few tears leave streaks down her face.

He pulls her in close to him, wrapping two strong arms around her shoulders.

She finally unleashes the tears, the pain, the heartbreak that has all built up in the recent months. She buries her head in his strong chest, presses close and holds on to her new lifeline.

Surrounding them are the ashes of hundreds killed in a conflict that is now over.

Above them, a shooting star flashes across the sky. This time, it _is_ one that can be wished on.

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><p>100 kids were sent to the ground to die.<p>

Instead, they learned to live.

They became adults in the span of a few weeks.

They created civilization amongst the wilderness.

They fought a war.

With the massacre of 18 people, and the subsequent sacrifice of the boy who did it, it ended.

And here, where the sky people first touched the ground, sits a warrior princess and her rebel prince, ready to piece themselves back together and begin anew.

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><p>Reviews will help heal Clarke's soul. Okay just kidding, the writers will do that. But reviews will help MY soul.<p>

Thanks for reading :)


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